Between Henan, Hubei, and Anhui, Mount Dabae boasted different faces in all four seasons.

In spring, flowers bloomed. In summer, deep green foliage thickened. In autumn, the red leaves raised their heads, and the snowscapes of winter were a spectacle among spectacles.

With such distinct scenery each season, it lacked nothing to be called a famed mountain.

And now, this season—winter.

Every corner of Mount Dabae, where the Alliance of the Martial World had made its seat, was dyed pure white. After two days of heavy snow finally let up, it was at last a view worth going out to see.

The young blood gathered at the Alliance of the Martial World climbed the hills within the fortress, or went beyond the walls to circle the mountain as a whole. They were all masters trained in martial arts, so the cold was no real problem.

But there were also many who gave up the chance to see Mount Dabae’s winter scenery.

Yun Ho was one of them.

KWAANG!

Shock flashed across Yun Ho’s face.

Mount Hua Sect’s signature supreme art, the Plum Blossom Thirty-Six Swords, had its dazzling sword patterns smashed apart by a single fist. The Plum Blossom Sword style’s characteristic forms, which pressed the opponent with lively, swift sword moves, were shattered by overwhelming force.

THUD!

“Guuuah!”

He had really, honestly not wanted to let it come to this this time.

But it hurt far too much. His focus was not so shallow that he would normally feel pain in the middle of a fight, yet every single fist and kick this man threw induced unbearable agony.

“Does it hurt?”

Kneeling and trembling, Yun Ho raised his head.

A blue-eyed ghost stood with the sun at his back, looking down on him.

“It hurts me too. My mind hurts.”

“Cough! Huff, huff!”

“Stop coming already.”

“J-just one more time...”

“No.”

THUD!

Yun Ho flew, crashed into the wall beside the entrance of Army-Breaking Pavilion, then fell to the ground. Sprawled out on the rock-hard, frozen earth, he passed out right there.

Yeon Hojeong shouted at Okcheong:

“Hey! Monkboy!”

“Y-yes?”

“Throw this bastard out front of the gate.”

“In this winter cold? Even if I’m a master, if he’s unconscious, then...”

“For fuck’s sake, you think he came here to decide a match without being ready to die? I said get him out of here, you brat!”

“Yes, sir.”

Okcheong quickly picked Yun Ho up.

For some reason, Yun Ho’s body felt unusually light. They’d only met a few times, but he hadn’t realized he was this light.

He’s not dead, right?

Thankfully, his life force was robust. The man had kicked him like he meant to kill him, yet he’d somehow only knocked him out. For all his foul mouth, he was surprisingly soft-hearted.

“Um...”

“What.”

“C-could I take him back to Mount Hua Sect’s quarters?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right back!”

“No need to come back.”

Okcheong hurriedly unfolded his footwork. It was Laddering-Clouds Stride, Wudang Sect’s greatest movement art.

Yeon Hojeong unconsciously whistled.

“So the guy whose sword is light as hell has a first-rate footwork art. Or maybe it’s just that all of him—martial arts and body—is light.”

With a sour face, Mookbi spoke up.

“That’s a unique movement art. It’s not that dynamic, but he’s already way off in the distance.”

“That’s Laddering-Clouds Stride, pride of ‘Wudang of the South.’ Wudang’s arts all contain deep martial principle. That footwork’s no exception.”

“I heard from Father before that Wudang’s sword is very soft and gentle.”

“On the surface, sure.”

“You mean it’s not?”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“It’s soft and unbroken. That much is a trait of Wudang arts. But if it were me, I’d never stop there.”

“Then what?”

“Hard and soft are one. In the martial world, no one is more skilled at Silk-Twisting Force than Wudang. It looks flexible at a glance, but once you gather the power of that circle into a single point and drive it out, its destructive force is enough to contend for being the greatest under heaven.”

“Oh...”

“With a martial art that’s nothing but endlessly soft, you can’t reach the Dao. There’s a reason people call Wudang ‘Wudang of the South.’ That’s why their martial arts are easy to enter, but hard to reach the highest realms in.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Picked it up here and there.”

There was no way that was true. He wasn’t the sort to talk about things he’d merely “picked up” with that kind of certainty.

“But you know...”

“Yeah?”

“You look pretty fed up.”

“Try personally grabbing each one and fighting them. Tell me it doesn’t wear you down.”

“You could just think of it as part of your training, right? They’re the young talents of the famous sects, so they’ll all be practicing their sects’ supreme arts. Couldn’t you use them as stepping stones for growth?”

“Growth? A parade of chaff that hasn’t even gotten near the secret essence of their sects’ supreme arts, and you’re talking about growth, my ass.”

“Mm, I see.”

Yeon Hojeong frowned.

“From now on, if anyone pokes around asking for a bout, just shoot them. Once they’re leaking out of a couple holes, they won’t dare to think about fighting.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I was about to say blow their heads off, but I held back.”

“If I put holes in someone’s body, won’t that turn into way too big an incident?”

“Not my problem. You’re the one who shot them.”

She had never seen anyone so irresponsible.

THUNK.

Setting Mad Dragon (Axe) down, Yeon Hojeong sat on the bench and rubbed his neck. They might be people who hadn’t grasped the secret essence of their sects’ supreme arts, but even so, he’d already fought more than fifteen young elites just today.

“I am tired, I’ll admit.”

If it had been a life-or-death fight, he wouldn’t have been this tired.

Holding back was, in fact, what made it worse. His temper was flaring to the breaking point, so he’d start using his arts thinking to send them flying in one go—but, like Mookbi had said, if he really did wreck them, it would cause all sorts of headaches, so he kept letting off power halfway through. Over and over.

His eyes gleamed.

Well... I might not be growing from this, but...

Even in this string of annoying fights, there was something he’d realized.

I’m not the Dark Emperor anymore. I can’t live the way I did in the demonic underworld.

From an outsider to the Dark Emperor of the underworld.

How many enemies had he felled, how many comrades had he lost on that path?

That was why his martial arts held no mercy. Once a fight began, it was always to the death. In the Dark Emperor’s battles, there was no such thing as “moderation.”

But now that he had gone back in time and was living among the orthodox martial world, things were different.

If he deployed his arts with nothing but killing intent, it would be disastrous. Even if he himself walked away fine, his clan could suffer the consequences.

I’m good at controlling my strength. But I don’t know how to make the opponent back down.

A martial art of enlightenment that made the opponent retreat of their own will.

That was what Yeon Hojeong lacked. His arts, developed to the extreme for the annihilation of enemies, were profoundly tyrannical and steeped in killing intent.

Father is different.

The middle path. The true swordsman who embraced ten thousand martial ways.

There was a reason people praised him as the Judge’s Sword. Against evildoers, he swung down the sword of judgment, but those he had no cause to kill he made withdraw of their own accord.

It was exactly the kind of method Yeon Hojeong needed now, living on the orthodox side.

“Knowing what you have to learn is a good thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

Yeon Hojeong rose to his feet.

“I’m going in to rest.”

“Okay.”

Just then—

The two of them froze.

Tension shadowed Mookbi’s face.

“This time... it’s different.”

“More than just different.”

Yeon Hojeong’s expression turned grave.

He turned his head toward the entrance of Army-Breaking Pavilion.

HUMMMM.

Beyond the wall, he could see the snow on the ground blowing away with the wind.

It wasn’t a natural wind. It was the intense wave of energy a martial artist exuded, scattering the piled snow with every step.

This energy...

It felt somehow familiar. Both strange and known, and carried a presence on the level of a lord of the Six Great Clans.

A moment later, a man appeared.

“I’ve come to see Young Master Yeon.”

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed.

An ordinary build, neither short nor tall.

His energy felt as empty and unbound as drifting clouds. It was similar to the aura of a hermit in the mountains, but with far more worldliness to it. Closer to the air of a scholar than a warrior.

But his martial arts were those of an unquestionable, transcendently high-level master.

The eyes of the middle-aged man looking at Yeon Hojeong gleamed.

Deep, deep wisdom, and a gaze full of resolve like a straight stalk of bamboo—those eyes left a strong impression.

“Your martial arts are impressive. That windlike surge of internal energy that twists up without regard for fire or water... Even back in my own house, I doubt many could match you.”

The man smiled.

“Seems I’ve come to just the right place. You must be Yeon Hojeong?”

Only then did Yeon Hojeong recognize who he was.

With crisp form, Yeon Hojeong brought his fists together in salute.

“My surname is Yeon, and my name is Hojeong. It is an honor to meet the Lord of the Je Gal Clan.”

Startled, Mookbi looked at the man again.

The man—Je Gal Munho—smiled gently.

“If you have the time, might I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

*****

“Fuuuu.”

The breath he exhaled was more turbid than ever.

But that was not a bad thing. It was the fate any warrior would experience when trying to tear down what was and build something new.

HUMMMMM.

Blue qi surged from Mo Yong-woo’s body.

Its color wasn’t so different from the Scorched-Wilds True Qi he’d used before. But it gave a far clearer, purer feeling.

Heaven and earth, and man between them—only humans possessed the qualification to seize the power to toy with the cosmos.

The qi of Heaven-and-Earth Eight Extremes Heart Method, the divine art within the Mo Yong Clan’s Clan-Lord’s Discipline, Heaven-and-Earth Martial Canon, filled Mo Yong-woo’s entire body.

“Outstanding.”

Mo Yong-woo turned his head.

As Mo Yonggun walked toward him, an unhidden awe showed on his face.

“In just two days, you’ve poured all of your inner force into the basket of Heaven-and-Earth Eight Extremes Heart Method?”

“Yes.”

“Truly remarkable talent. Your insight is no less than anyone’s, but even with that taken into account, this speed is astonishing.”

Mo Yong-woo shook his head.

“This is only the beginning. I haven’t even swung my sword yet, so if anything, I’d say I’m late.”

“If anyone but you had said that, I’d have yelled at them, asked ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) how they planned to run before they could walk.”

Mo Yonggun smiled in satisfaction.

“It’s only a few days away now.”

“Sir?”

“I mean the conference to found the Alliance of the Martial World.”

Studying Mo Yonggun’s face, Mo Yong-woo realized there was something his uncle intended to have him do.

“What would you have me do?”

“Ha-ha-ha.”

A prodigal son who’d walked the crooked path for over ten years and finally returned.

He could have let it go to his head, but there was no sign of that at all. His entire being radiated a quiet spirit that said he would carry out any task given to him flawlessly.

“The Alliance of the Martial World will be founded. We’ll still have to consult with the representatives of the minor sects, but with the Nine Sects and One Union and the lords of the Six Great Clans voting almost unanimously in favor, no one will be able to resist the tide.”

“......”

“Once the Alliance is founded, there will be an organization I want you to take charge of.”

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes lit.

“What is it?”

“An Independent Field Force.”

“...What?!”

“There will be two Independent Field Forces in the Alliance of the Martial World. I’d like you to command one of them. Of course, if it doesn’t work out, there’s nothing to be done.”

“A roaming force...”

“You don’t need to hold the post long. Commander of a combat unit is the lowest of the countless positions you’ll need to ascend through. Think of it as experience.”

“I understand.”

“However, if you become commander of a roaming force, you’ll have to earn more merit than any other unit. Enough to absorb or disband that other force. Can you do that?”

Mo Yong-woo nodded.

“Don’t worry.”

“Ha-ha! I trust you.”

“But who did you have in mind as commander of the other Independent Field Force?”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes cooled.

“The eldest son of the Yeon Clan.”

“......!!”